


Absinthe

by witchcraffft



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Dom/sub, Multi, guess which witch is the top and which one is the bottom, pansexual witches jumped out, technically it’s lilith and not mary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-28 04:11:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchcraffft/pseuds/witchcraffft
Summary: Intoxicated. That’s how most of the people Zelda Spellman had bed would describe themselves in regards to her. She oozes in sexual energy that attracts both men and women of various ages. She knows this and utilizes it every time she wants to. There’s power in being wanted. There’s power in being in control of other people’s desires, their pleasure. And she doesn’t even have to use witchcraft.





	1. Mortals and Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't proofread, didn't fact-check, written very quickly—you know, all the attributes of a lousy horndog.

“Yeeees!” She hisses as her mind goes blank and her orgasm travels from her sex, to the rest of her body in powerful waves. She grips his hair harder and locks her ankles behind his neck, pulling him closer to her center. “Don’t you dare stop.” She warns, and he keeps on lapping at her wetness, two fingers thrusting languidly into her. A few minutes later, a sleepy smile creeps its way up her face; she’s still panting, eyes closed.

He lays gentle kisses on the inside of her thighs before standing upright. The bright moonlight and the thin sheet of sweat covering her alabaster skin makes her look ethereal, and he sucks in a breath. _A_ _fucking_ _goddess_ , he thinks. “Can I do that again?”

She lays atop the table on his porch, hair spread around her like a halo, completely rid of clothing save for the golden locket fastened around her neck. “Do what again?” She lifts her eyelids at him, and notices the goosebumps erupting in his skin.

“Eat you out. Finger fuck you. Put my mouth on you.” Answers his low voice, leaning closer to her face, his torso looming over hers at the table. “Bury my face between your legs. Suck on your clit. Tongue you. _Worship_ you.”

She smirks, digs her fingernails into his jean-clad waist and reaches for his mouth, kissing him deep, tongues intertwining and tasting her ecstasy. She raises herself on her elbows and pulls herself a mere centimeter away from his lips, their mingling breaths like electricity and it’s making him dizzy with desire. “How much do you want it?” she rasps against his lips.

“I think I’ll die if you don’t say yes,” he answers truthfully, his pupils dilating, his dick throbbing between her legs.

“Well, aren’t you sweet...” She muses and rubs his member through his pants. “Fuck me good and I’ll let you know.”

 _Intoxicated_. That’s how most of the people Zelda Spellman had bed would describe themselves in regards to her. She oozes in sexual energy that attracts both men and women of various ages. She knows this and utilizes it every time she wants to. There’s power in being wanted. There’s power in being in control of other people’s desires, their pleasure. And she doesn’t even have to use witchcraft.

Tonight, though, she lets this mortal man drink her in, have her fill of him and his fill of her out on the porch with the soft moonlight caressing her skin. The moon is almost full and it’s beautiful and she doesn’t see how getting an orgasm (or four) could affect the Church of Night’s rituals the following night. After all, she’s simply preparing her body for the festivities, isn’t she?

How she came to choose this particular man was calculated, practiced, proved and tested based on her experiences with picking up people over the last couple of centuries: lingering look, turn away, lick her lips, stare, and if her prey doesn’t come sauntering over to her within the next couple of minutes, she does. She’s not particular about where she fucks them—in an alleyway, in the men’s loo, in the women’s loo, against a car, __in__  the car, in an empty classroom (that one time with one of Sabrina’s kindergarten teachers), atop the kitchen counter, in an abandoned Christian church, behind a posh restaurant—as long as they get the job done. But never in her home.

They always beg her to see them again. _Intoxicated_ _._  But she never does, never did fuck anyone more than once. _Intoxicated_ _._  Some of them, the most unstable ones, get addicted to her and would try to follow her home which would then prompt her to cast a spell to make them forget. Which is a pity; she always did like being admired.

She can’t even remember this one’s name—doesn’t even want to—not something she wants to focus on recalling when he’s trying to fuck her into perdition. He’s young enough to have stamina, old enough to know how to please and tease and give release; he must be in his late-30s to early 40s. Which doesn’t bother her even though she doesn’t look a day over 40. Anyway, truth be told, she will always be older than the people she fucks. Unless of course it’s Faustus, because he’s definitely older than she is by at least half.

Ah, yes. Father Blackwood. Such an insecure man. If she wasn’t brewing such a devious plan, she wouldn’t even patronize his asinine ideas about bringing back old traditions and what-nots. A bunch of bullshit! They, witches and warlocks, of all should know the importance of adapting to their environment: for their aging slows down to a thread-like line that extends for centuries—they must get out of town and live somewhere else every couple of decades so as not to arouse suspicions from hateful mortals.

Zelda and the mortal had moved to his bedroom at some point in the night. After, when they lay there exhausted and satisfied, she straddles him, reaching over to his side of the bed and retrieving a stick of cigarette. She grabs him by the chin, leans down to kiss him deep and long, and puts the cigarette between her lips as she stands up, bare as the day she was born.

“Agnes, where are you going?” He asks when he finally opens his eyes and sees her about to leave the room.

 _Agnes_ _._ _Right_ _._  Zelda huffs at the false name she gave him, and turns back to face him, “Must you be so attached?”

“What?” He asks, blinking in confusion, bolting upright in bed, the white sheets pooling on his waist.

“Surely, you knew this is a one-time thing, uh... what was your name again?”

“Carl. Carl Fraser.”

“Oh, Satan,” she mutters under her breath, __such a fucking boring name__.

“So, you __don’t__  want to see me again?” Carl asks, visibly upset.

“I believe not.” She says firmly. She doesn’t want to use some spell to make him forget her; it would be a waste of precious magic. “Lovely orgasms, dear. But I do not want to have sex with you again. Is that clear enough for you now?”

He stares at her longingly. She’s a damn drug; one taste of her and he’s fucking hooked. “Yes.” Says his trembling voice, on the verge of tears.

“Don’t drown my orgasms in your tears.” She says and leaves, putting her clothes on as she collects them from his living room floor. He doesn’t follow her and she’s glad.

* * *

The smell of lemons hangs in the air as she closes the door behind her. The scent of citrus carries with it the giggles of her sister.

“Zelds? Is that you?” Yells Hilda in that thick English accent of hers. “I’m in the kitchen! We have a visitor.”

The thudding of her black heels on the floorboards echoes as she makes her way towards the kitchen, now fully clothed in a dark purple velvet dress that hugs her form so deliciously. What she saw puzzled her: one of Sabrina’s current teachers sitting ever so elegantly opposite Hilda as the two zest the lemons for the latter’s lemon butter recipe.

“Oh, Zelds. There you are. Where have you been, we’ve been waiting for you for a while now. This is Miss—”

The stranger cuts her off, “Wardwell. __Mary__ Wardwell. I’m one of your niece’s teachers.” She wipes her hand quite perfunctorily on a towel, crossing the distance between her and Zelda and extends a hand in greeting.

“Zelda Spellman.” Zelda looks down indifferently at the hand and ignores it, addressing the blonde instead, “Hilda, surely you’ve shown Miss Wardwell the packages our mortuary offers?”

“Oh, she’s not here, for that, is she?” Replies Hilda cheekily before turning to the teacher shyly, “Uhm...what are you here for again? Sorry, I can’t believe I forgot...”

“Oh, it’s fine.” Miss Wardwell says, turning her back on the redhead and returning to the seat she previously vacated. “I’m here about Sabrina, actually. I couldn't help but notice that there’s something bothering her recently. She’s always staring into space, and her grades haven’t plummeted down but they’re starting to. Your niece is a bright young woman and she’s dear to me. I was just… _concerned_ , that’s all.”

“Miss Wardwell,” says Zelda as she settles in the seat on the far end of the counter, “we are well aware of Sabrina’s recent _predicaments_. I’m afraid we’ve been having some issues in the family that concerns her parents. It has always been such a sensitive topic for the girl because she lost them both when she was still just an infant.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Although, I admit, I was a bit curious as to why it were your names listed on the school records as her legal guardians.”

“Yes, well, my sister Zelda and I have raised Sabrina ever since our brother and his wife Diana died in that unfortunate plane crash.” Interjects Hilda, causing the eye contact between the teacher and the older Spellman to break.

“Zelda. Hmmm… Zelda, Zelda, __Zelda__ ,” says Miss Wardwell, as if trying to acknowledge the taste of the woman’s name in her mouth before asking seriously, “Hansel and Gretel?”

Red eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “The children’s tale?” She asks, offended. “ _ _No__. Scarlatti and Vivaldi. From Boccaccio’s. My parents were somewhat fond of the opera when they had me.”

“Oh...,” murmurs Miss Wardwell.

The laughter being repressed by Hilda came flying out of her, and soon, she’s snorting like a swine, tears running down her cheeks. “Oh, that’s refreshingly funny, isn’t it?” She says when she finally regains herself, only to burst out laughing again, so she excuses herself to go to the loo and leaves the two to their own devices.

“Now, you may have fooled my sister but I know the truth.” Zelda declares once Hilda is out of earshot. “Why are you really here? Tell me _now_  or I will banish you.”

“Oh, honey, I'm afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The mass of Mary’s dark hair bounces lightly as she tilts her head a bit to the side, feigning confusion.

“You are _not_  Miss Wardwell.” She says firmly, placing her two feet on the ground and rounding the corner towards the brunette. Suddenly, flashes of erotic memories came flooding her in rapid succession, overwhelming her, and she stops with a hand gripping the edge of the counter. “You—” She begins but was unable to finish as everything turns to black and she feels her legs giving out from underneath her.

 

When she awakes, she finds herself lying flat on her back, warm orange light spilling from the foot of the bed she knows not of. A weak groan rumbles in her throat as she struggles to prop herself up to no avail. Something seems to bind her body to the bed. So she clears her throat and tries to speak, “Hilda.”

When no one answered lest the crackling of the fire, she repeats it again, louder this time, “Hilda!”

A few unresponsive minutes later and nothing came to her but silence, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, calling to her sister through the telepathic communication they share. But something keeps her from reaching out.

Suddenly, a shadow looms over her and Zelda opens her eyes to the sight of a smirking Mary Wardwell. “Are you tired yet, _witch_?”

Angry and frustrated, she grits her teeth and summoned her strength to yell, “You _demon_! What have you done to me?”

A scarlet chesire grin encases a set of pearly white teeth. “Oh, Zelda,” she begins, “I ought to make you remember.”

“Release me!” The redhead demanded.

“Oh, yes, of course. My apologies.” The green-eyed demon whispers truthfully, waving a hand in the air and releasing the other from her spell. She pulls back and sits down on the chair by the bed, watching as Zelda sits up immediately and stares at her spitefully.

“What is it that you want from me?” The witch asks firmly, trying to take control.

Leaning back, Mary crosses her legs, her green nightgown riding up over her knees. “My, my… We really do need to joggle that pretty head of yours, don't we?”

 The demoness was met with nothing but the fiery stare of the oldest Spellman.

“Zelda…” She whispers, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. _Click_ _._ _Click_ _._ _Click_ _._  “Have you really forgotten how I made you cry in pleasure at the Greendale woods on your 3rd blood moon? How, in Berlin, you were begging me to fuck you _harder_ , to add _one_ _more_ _finger_ …?”

The other woman’s throat go dry, memories starting to flood her again. And with them, arousal that is beginning to pool between her thighs, making her feel oh so suddenly warm.

“Do you not remember dear Oscar’s soiree in London, when you lifted up my gown so gently and licked me to oblivion? The way you kept moaning yourself as if you were going to cum as well. How eager you were to please me that you didn’t give a care in the world that anyone might have walked into the writer’s receiving area and see us.” She smiles sinfully and asks, “Do you remember now, child? Or shall I continue?”

Zelda rushes to her knees, bowing her head at the foot of her mistress. “Forgive me, Lilith, mother of demons, the first witch. It was gravely foolish of me to not recognize you in this body. I shall give you whatever it is you may want, please—”

Lilith places a finger under the witch’s chin and slowly lift her face to hers until their breaths are almost mingling. “What I want, dear Zelda, is to remind you how it _feels_  like to be _fucked_   _by divinity_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, am I sorry for the beginning of the chapter? Idek.
> 
> Might add a few more chapters depending on the response.


	2. Nymphs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After all, how could she not give in when the luscious redhead is buzzing with desire, begging to be fucked, her lips parting in pleasure, waiting to be devoured?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up right where the previous chap left off. Alright, gays, it's time to lock the door. My hoe jumped out.  
> (This wasn't proofread.)

Lilith places a finger under the witch’s chin and slowly lifts her face to hers until their breaths are almost mingling. “What I want, dear Zelda, is to remind you how it _feels_ like to be _fucked_ _by_ _divinity_.”

“I—” Zelda starts, letting out a shuddering breath, warmth spreading low in her belly.

Lilith raises a quizzical eyebrow at her, challenging her to protest.

“Yes, mistress.” Whispers the redhead, lowering her gaze and folding her hands in her lap.

“That’s a good witch.” The demoness smiles, and without releasing the other woman’s chin, commands firmly, “Part your lips.”

Zelda does so and was met with the sinful red pair of Lilith’s. Their tongues intertwine in a heated kiss; the witch leaning closer, rising onto her feet and grabbing onto the brunette’s hair, drawing the other deeper. They pulled apart gasping, and she had just taken in a breath when Zelda pushes her back into the chair and straddles her, cerulean eyes brewing with storm and utter hunger. The Spellman witch looms over the demon, red hair falling like a curtain around them. “Did you miss me, mistress?” She smiles saucily, tongue sneaking out to swipe at her upper lip, not giving a single care that her mouth is smeared with Lilith’s lipstick.

She watches hungrily, memories of the witch’s skillful tongue coming back to her. “One taste of you and I’m fucking hooked,” Lilith whispers, fingers digging into Zelda’s hips. She reaches upwards to catch the other’s mouth, her tongue slips inside, caressing the redhead’s and eliciting a low groan when she traces a line at the roof of Zelda’s mouth. Her hands move lower and she palms Zelda’s ass, giving it one firm squeeze. “Get on the bed.”

She grins, climbing down from Lilith’s lap, and without taking her eyes from her mistress, starts walking backwards until her calves hit the edge of the bed. She sits down slowly, licking her lips. “And?”

“Now give me a show.” She says throatily, leaning back to assert dominance.

The Spellman grinned, her head tilted downwards as she looked at her mistress from above her thick eyelashes. She parts her legs slowly, taking her time as she places her right hand oh-so gently on her knee. With her other hand supporting her upper body, Zelda trails the tips of her fingers slowly up her thigh, hiking her dress up to reveal the long expanse of her creamy legs, with the only sounds surrounding her the cracking in the fireplace and their laboured breaths. Her fingers traveled higher, letting go of her dress as it pools at the tops of her thighs. She touches one hip, her hand moving towards the middle of her waist, just hovering over her dress-covered belly button, and yet she can feel the warmth of her skin emanating beyond the garment. Feeling bold, she looks directly at Lilith who’s following her hand with such dedicated attention, and sucks her middle finger into her mouth. She hears Lilith let go of a shuddered breath, pupils wide and mouth hanging open. She smiles triumphantly, and Lilith’s gaze follows her hand as she slips her hand under her knickers, finding her center, the movement of her fingers against her pussy visible to the demon. She gasps as she feels her clit with the tip of her middle finger, her beautiful blue orbs dilating and turning a shade darker.

Lilith stares in sensual fascination at every languid movement made by her lover, graceful and enticing. She’s chasing every heated breath; Mary’s human body suddenly so restricting. The green silk nightgown parting more open, exposing more of the swell of her breasts. When Zelda gasps, her own mouth hangs more open, sucking in a shaky breath. At the witch’s soft moans, the demoness finds herself on her feet, dangerously drawn close to the woman in suspended pleasure.

“Please,” Zelda whimpers, blue eyes connecting with the other’s green, her chest rising and falling quickly. She opens her legs wider, the panties moving a tad bit to the side, causing Lilith to catch a glimpse of her wet pussy gleaming in the soft glow of the fire. Zelda pushes her finger closer to her sex, drawing lazy circles around her clit.

Lilith lifts a hand to caress the witch’s face, feeling the pulse in her flushed neck jump under her palm. “Stop.” She commands softly, grabbing a handful of red locks. Zelda doesn’t stop, only rubbed herself in harder, quicker strokes. The demoness grabs the hand buried between Zelda’s legs and stills it, “I said stop.”

Half-fighting a sob, the Spellman witch looks up at her mistress and sees hunger and anger and wanting in her green eyes. “Please.”

“No.” She whispers, bringing the finger Zelda was using to pleasure herself between her red-stained lips and sucking on it. Lilith closes her eyes as she adds another digit into her mouth and focuses on the way the pads of the pale woman’s fingers feel against her tongue, the way her taste buds seem to dance at the sweetness of her. “Not yet,” Lilith says when she finally releases her digits with a pop and pulls at her lover’s hand, “Up.”

Zelda wills her limbs to move, still shaky from being so near the edge but never quite getting there. She stills her knees, and stands straight, almost the same height as Lilith’s without her heels on. Her head still spinning with want, she feels Lilith take her face in her hands and kiss her deeply. Zelda responds immediately with equal fervor, closing her lips on Madam’s roaming tongue and sucking on it, to which she’s rewarded when one of the demon’s hands found its way into the underside of her breast, clawing at her as the other presses the witch’s neck closer into her.

When they pull apart to breathe, Lilith takes this as an opportunity to start kissing Zelda’s neck as the hand on her breast has moved to cup her ass, kneading them as she pulls the witch closer to her. Lifting the hem of her dress up, Lilith’s palm connected with the tender flesh of Zee’s behind, the sting causing the redhead to open her eyes with a gasp, grinning madly at her lover.

“You like that?” Asks the green-eyed seductress.

“Yes,” Zelda giggled like a conservative virgin shy about her desires.

Lilith’s fingertips skate over the stinging skin, knowing that the featherlight touch is driving the witch crazy.

“P–please,” Zelda rasps, tripping over her breath as the demon’s other hand slithers its way under her dress and into her unattended cheek, “More.”

She obeys, hitting her lover’s asscheek repeatedly. _One_ , _two_ , _three_ , and kneading the sore flesh while she does the same to the other cheek. After all, how could she not give in when the luscious redhead is buzzing with desire, begging to be fucked, her lips parting in pleasure, waiting to be devoured? “Maybe some other time,” she whispers against Zelda’s neck, placing a soft kiss and feeling the pulse jump under her crimson lips. She drags the woman’s soaked underwear down her legs and lets it fall to the ground, “I have other plans for you tonight.” She declares and pushes the woman down on the bed, stalking after her like a famished predator.

The redhead lays there propped up on her elbows, dumbfounded with lust, her clit aching to be touched. “Lilith, _please_...” She pleads with half a sob, close to tears.

Lilith smirks, slowly sinking to her knees. She sees Zelda shudder with excitement, arousal running through their bodies like electric current, the witch’s legs falling open almost immediately in erotic anticipation. Lilith lifts one wobbly leg over her shoulder, pressing open-mouthed sloppy kisses along the insides of Zelda’s thighs, nudging the dress up with her nose. “I want you to watch,” she whispers, and Zelda bites her lower lip, nostrils flaring as she tries to catch her fucking breath. Without breaking eye contact, Lilith holds the cleft of her legs more open and sticks her tongue out, running it leisurely along Zelda’s slit.

The witch whimpers out in pleasure, fighting the urge to let her eyes roll into the back of her head and keep obeying her mistress. “Fuck...” she hisses out and bites too hardly on her lip that she tastes rivulets of blood. And yet she didn’t care, urging the woman licking at her, “Faster...”

Pressing the flat of her tongue along Zelda’s pussy, she gives it one long slow lick, torturing and tantalizing, coating her damn mouth with the redhead’s wetness before she closes her lips around the clit, giving light and deep sucks in alternation.

“Fuck me!” The witch yells in frustration, scooting closer to the edge of the bed and practically grinding on Lilith’s mouth.

She gives in, pushing a finger inside Zelda and thrusting it almost without preamble, without skipping a pulse, the steady rhythm bringing the woman closer to reaching the gates of bliss.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the redhead hisses, head thrown back, exposing the long column of her throat. “I nee–” she starts in between quick breaths, “I need—”

Lilith knows; after centuries of great fucking, she’s damn attuned to Zelda’s body. She pulls back smirking, and looks up at the image of her lover so close to being undone. “Ah, my sweet Zelda...”

“Fucking fuck me!” She exclaims throatily, feeling as though she might die if she doesn’t reach the peak of her orgasm. Thankfully, her mistress finds her too goddamn irresistible to let her perish, and so Lilith adds another finger thrusting in her lover’s sex and rubs her clit, fast and hard. Zelda felt stars pricking at the inside of her eyelids, her toes curling in utter pleasure, her body quivering in satisfaction, and she hisses, “Yes! _Fuuuck_!”

Lilith doesn’t let up, her hands continue on working the witch, her own thighs sticky underneath her nightgown but her completion can wait till later. Right now, she’ll give her faithful servant the fucking she so deserves. She watches Zelda as she comes. Her vixen looks lovely. _Hers_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just a weak horny gay, sir.  
> LMK what you think and/or if you want another chapter! bisous !


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